What a Way to Go
by Calculated Artificiality
Summary: Tami has to get her wisdom teeth out (call her a late bloomer, apparently). Strangely, the anesthesia-along with making her talk too much-has a very aphrodisiacal effect on her. There's a flirty doctor, an absent Julie, and smoothies: what could go wrong? Or right?


_A/N: I don't even know what this is or where it came from, but here it is, anyway. This is my first FNL story. It is, as it were, a one-shot. And gets a little mature, so reader beware._

* * *

Tami Taylor sat in the reclined red chair, the white light shining behind the X-rays. Her nerves were shot, and her stomach wouldn't stop turning in on itself as she waited for the news. She wasn't sure what about this place made a minute feel like an hour, but she was sure that time stood still in this building, in this room.

Finally, a tall man appeared—he was wearing a long white coat, he had a brown beard with specks of gray, and glasses perched on his nose. He grabbed her chart, and looked at the x-rays on the wall before turning to regard her.

"We have good news, and then just news." He smiled.

Tami felt her stomach flip. "Give it to me straight, Dr. Bob," she wanted the nervous feeling to subside.

He made a little note on her chart, and then looked up at her, "Alright. The good news is you have no cavities!" Though Tami Taylor was a grown adult, her dentist always delivered this particular news as though she were a child who had just learned to take care of her teeth.

Tami smiled as she felt a little bit of the tension slip out of her body; she unclenched her jaw just a little. "So… what's the news?"

"Well, I'm going to have to refer you to an oral surgeon, Tami." Dr. Bob took his pen and pointed at three spots on the X-ray. "Your wisdom teeth are actually coming in."

Tami's face fell, "But… I'm almost 40!"

Dr. Bob smiled, and hugged her chart to his chest, "Consider yourself a late bloomer." He chuckled at his own joke, and then set her chart down. "See the receptionist at the front for a referral."

Tami Taylor barreled in the front door of her house after work, slamming her purse down on the table, rounding the corner to the fridge, where she pulled out a bottle of pinot grigio and aggressively poured herself a glass. She hoped someday she'd get that wine fridge she'd seen at Costco and kept hinting about.

"Everything alright?" Her husband asked from the couch.

She took a sip of the wine, "Well, hon, no. No, everything is not alright." She took a longer pull.

"Dentist didn't go well?" Eric Taylor knew how much his wife hated the dentist.

"Sure, the dentist went fine. Except now I have to see an oral surgeon."

Eric turned his head to look at her, his eyebrows raised.

"Yep." Tami nodded, "It seems at 40, it is now time to get my wisdom teeth out. Dr. Bob used very scary words, so I called the damn oral surgeon and my consultation is tomorrow at 7am. Can you come with me?" She asked, setting her wine glass down on the kitchen counter.

It was Wednesday, and Eric's prep period was first. "Sure, I'll go with you." He pressed play on the paused game tape.

She rounded the couch, and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, babe." She kicked her shoes off and hopped up on the barstool, reaching across to grab her wine.

The consultation with the oral surgeon—a good-looking man in his late 50s with salt and pepper hair—went well enough, though he was a bit too handsy for Eric's tastes. The clasp of an elbow during a handshake with his wife, a reassuring hand on her shoulder, standing just a _little too close to her_. It's not that he wasn't used to this behavior from men towards his wife, it was just that he didn't much like it.

Nevertheless, the oral surgeon—Dr. Winman, "Please, call me Greg"—gave them the rundown. He mentioned the slight possibility of nerve damage, but reassured Tami that everything would be fine. They set an appointment for the next Friday morning; thankfully it was a bye-week. Dr. Winman had asked if it was too soon for Tami, and she'd laughed and said, "Never would be too soon, so I guess next Friday will have to do."

* * *

The morning of the procedure found all three of the Taylors in the kitchen, Julie and Eric were eating, and Tami was eyeing their breakfast.

"Julie," Eric said around a mouthful of eggs, "Do you have your stuff packed to go to Lois's this weekend?"

Julie nodded, polishing off the last bit of her toast.

Tami looked at her, "Wait, what? You're going to be with Lois all weekend?" She sighed, "Who is going to take care of me?" She asked, looking hard at her daughter.

Julie pushed her plate into the sink, "Dad." She grinned, and headed towards her room to pick up her backpack and overnight bag.

Tami looked at Eric, he smiled and sipped his coffee.

"You're sending our daughter away this weekend?" She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Thought it would be easier." He chuckled, and moved to rinse his plate off. "I'll take good care of you." He winked and turned the faucet off.

"Uh-huh." She folded her arms over her chest.

A car honked outside, "Jules! Lois is here!" He called to the back room.

Julie came bustling out, stopped to give her mom a hug, "Good luck, mom." She smiled, "Bye, dad."

"Bye!" Tami called as the door slammed. She fixed Eric with her steady gaze.

Eric leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Good care." He repeated, and smiled.

He'd _seen_ Tami after anesthesia once—she'd had her appendix out when they were in college—and she was _quite_ the handful, particularly the first day. Back then, Eric hadn't been prepared for it—she'd fluttered through every emotion known to man, and then she'd rapid-fire cycle through all of them again. The most surprising emotion was _horny_. He'd never been turned on by a patient fresh out of surgery before, but damn if horny Tami didn't make him want to try to be.

Whatever her mood after the surgery, Eric knew having a child-free house would be the best bet.

"We've gotta go, we're gonna be late." He said, looking at her expectantly.

"Well, alright, I'm ready." She said, grabbing her purse.

Eric looked her over, she was wearing her normal blue jeans and a tight fitting blue top, with a deep v-neck. Her cleavage was visible, and it looked particularly enticing today, with whatever bra she'd chosen to wear. Eric thought about Dr. Handsy, and pursed his lips.

"Don't you… uh…" He did everything in his power to avert his eyes from her chest, "Want a jacket or something?"

Tami raised her eyebrow, and he cleared his throat.

"I mean… it gets cold in those doctor's offices, you might need one." He finished, proud of himself for thinking on his feet. She'd have been pissed if she knew the _real_ reason he was bringing it up.

"Good thinking, hon," She said, disappearing into their bedroom. She emerged with a tight black zip up hoodie over her t-shirt, which she promptly left unzipped, her cleavage still exposed.

Somehow, Eric thought, she looked even sexier now with the hoodie than without. Damn if he knew how she did that, and damn his big mouth.

With a sigh, he opened the door for her, and guided her out, his hand pressed on the small of her back.

The waiting room was cold, and relatively empty as Eric waited. He picked up a magazine, thumbed through it, and tossed it aside. He looked at his phone, though he knew the only person who ever called him on it was currently under general anesthesia.

Eric thought back to Dr. Winman—ol' Handsy—running his hand down Tami's arm in what Eric was sure was meant to be a comforting gesture before leading her back for surgery, but what looked oddly sensual to Eric. Particularly after he noticed that the good doctor was not, in fact, wearing a wedding ring. As the doctor and Tami walked back to the procedure room, Eric could have sworn he saw a glint in the doctor's eye.

Eric sighed. There was a distinct possibility he was reading too much into this. Sometimes, he did that. He picked up another magazine, and started flipping through it; he was reading an article about hair masks when a nurse came out.

"Mr. Taylor?" She said, and smiled to allay any fears, "Your wife's procedure is over now, she should be waking up soon—you're welcome to wait in her room until she wakes up."

Eric smiled, nodded, stood, and tossed the magazine on the end table.

When he was in the room with Tami, he couldn't help but stare at her—she looked so peaceful. Her skin was so smooth, her face so sweet—he was struck by her absolute beauty, and was reminded of just how lucky he was to have her.

A nurse came in to adjust some tools, and Tami began to stir, making a little noise in the back of her throat.

The nurse turned and looked at her, "Hey, Mrs. Taylor," Her voice was gentle. "Welcome back."

Tami lifted her head slightly off the chair, "Y'all are done already?" Her voice was thick, "That was _fast_." She shook her head, "No, you can't be done!"

The nurse laughed gently, "We're done."

"Noooooooooo…." Tami drew the word out, and laughed at the sound. "Noooooo…." She said again, giggling, "Y'all are lying to me. You're not done!"

The nurse chuckled, "We would not lie to you, Mrs. Taylor. Your wisdom teeth are gone, and you're just about ready to go home with your husband." The nurse nodded her head at Eric, who was sitting in an office chair behind his wife. "I'll go get the doctor."

"Wow." Her voice fell loosely from her lips, before she turned to look at Eric, "Hey," she said, drawing out the word. "You're here." She said, simply, and a smile lit up her face.

Eric smiled back, "I am." He leaned forward in his chair, "You feeling good?"

Tami beamed at him, "Yeah, babe, I'm feeling good." She said the word as though it had more than one syllable.

Eric chuckled as Dr. Winmore entered the room. "Hey, Tami," he said, as the nurse came in behind him and shut the door. "You did great," His voice was soft, meant to be soothing, but Eric found it grating.

Tami smiled at the doctor, and then her brow furrowed, a worried look passing over her face, "Doctor, I'm soooooooo sorry! I fell asleep while you were talking to me, that was just soooo rude of me."

Dr. Winmore chuckled, and gave her a little wink, "That was kind of the point, Tami."

Eric leaned back in the chair and watched the doctor—he wondered just what, precisely, this man had been talking to Tami about. Eric shook his head; obviously he was just being overly paranoid.

"Everything went really well, so we're just going to send you home with some pain meds and some instructions." As the doctor was speaking, the nurse handed Eric a bag. "Swelling should start tomorrow. Soft foods only for awhile—smoothies are great." The doctor pointed towards the bag that Eric was holding, but his gaze remained focused on Tami. "There's a nice little recipe in that bag there." Dr. Winmore placed his hand on Tami's shoulder momentarily, before taking it away, "You have someone to take care of you?" he asked.

Eric scoffed in the corner—what an absolutely stupid question, what with him sitting right there. The nurse looked at him and smiled a little, obviously used to having to smooth things over.

Tami lolled her head to the side and looked at Eric, "Yep," she smiled, "I've got my hubsand…my husband." She reached her hand out to Eric, "He takes really good care of me." She giggled, and he took her hand. She dropped her voice low, " _Really_ good care of me." The tone of her voice had Eric clearing his throat, the nurse looking amused, and Dr. Winmore looking, Eric was annoyed to discover, decidedly envious. Tami let go of his hand, still smiling.

"Well," Dr. Winmore chuckled, "That's good." He turned his attention to Eric for the first time since he entered the room, taking in his attire, "Do you have a game tomorrow?" He'd obviously surmised he was a coach, "Pee Wee game?"

Eric smiled tightly, and opened his mouth to respond, but Tami spoke first.

"Oh, no, Eric's a _high school coach_ ," She was beaming with pride, "Very sought after. He's _such a good coach_ ," Tami laughed, "He's very in control, very… _dominant_ …" she looked at the nurse, "In the bedroom, too," Tami winked at the nurse, who couldn't help but laugh. "I like that. He likes to… call the plays, if you know what I mean."

The nurse's eyes were shining, and both Eric and the doctor were staring at Tami, "Honey, there ain't a person in this room who doesn't know what you mean."

Tami laughed, and then brought a hand to her mouth, "Oops." She said, but her eyes were laughing; her words were rushed when she spoke, "Except sometimes, he really likes when _I_ call the plays, if you know what I mean," She dropped her voice to a whisper, convinced only the nurse could hear her if she talked low enough, "Must be all that control on the field, sometimes he wants me to just… _take charge_ , and really just tell him what to do, it's actually pretty hot when…"

"Nurse, can you please shut her up?" Eric cleared his throat; his face was bright red, and he stood up, moving beside Tami in the chair, "Alright, Tami, time to get you home." He glanced at the doctor, who was staring straight at Tami. Eric reached his hand out, she took it, and he helped her stand up.

"Alright, hon," She said, sliding her hand around his waist, before dropping her hand down to grab his ass. She squeezed, and Eric jumped.

At the door, Dr. Winmore shook his head, "Call us if you have any questions," He smiled at Tami, "You were the _perfect_ patient," Eric watched as the doctor's eyes dropped quickly from Tami's face to her cleavage, and he fought the urge to yell 'ah ha!' Eric had been, it turned out, _right_.

"Thanks, doctor!" Tami said, as they left the building, Tami giggling all the way to the car.

Eric opened the door for her, and as she slid into the passenger's seat, he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Damn it, woman, you're going to be the death of me."

By the time they got home, Tami was high _and_ ravenous. Sitting on the couch, she felt her stomach grumble.

"Babe!" She shouted, though Eric was in the kitchen getting a blender down. "I'm so hungry!" She leaned her head back on the couch, "And a little dizzy. Can you make me… can you make one of those smoothies for me? Can you use the recipe Dr. Winmore gave us?"

Eric shook his head, running the fruit under the faucet, "I don't want to make anything _Dr. Winmore_ gave us." He took the recipe out of the bag and threw it in the trash, "We don't need anything from him," He dried the fruit with a paper towel, "Did you ever stop to think that maybe I already got you a smoothie recipe from the internet? Huh? Did you ever think that maybe I found you the most delicious smoothie recipe you've ever tasted long before Dr. Winmore gave us a recipe he gives every single one of his patients?" He sliced a knife through a strawberry.

"Did you?" She asked, her face screwing up with emotion, "That is just so sweet."

Eric cut a banana, "I'm a sweet guy." He said, tossing the fruit in the blender, "I don't need _Dr. Winmore's_ recipe." He put the lid on the blender and ran it, pulsing it for a bit.

"Honey…" Tami bit her lip, "Do you not like Dr. Winmore?" She tried not to laugh as Eric regarded her from across the kitchen.

"What's not to like about _Dr. Winmore_?" He took the lid off the blender and poured it into a glass.

"You _don't_ like Dr. Winmore! Is it because he was oddly fascinated with my chest?" She laughed, pressing her head back into the couch. "Oooh, Lordy, I bet he got a _good_ view from his surgery angle while I was passed out."

Eric stopped halfway to her, and stared, "Tami. Now, why would you go and say something like that?" He closed the distance between them and handed her the cup.

She smelled the smoothie, "Oh, babe, this smells so good! Thank you for making this for me!"

He sat down on the couch next to her, "You're welcome."

Tami brought the glass to her lips and took a drink, but she found her mouth was still numb and a bit of the pink liquid slid down her chin. "Oops." She said, darting her tongue out to catch a bit. But, it wasn't enough. Eric handed her a napkin from the coffee table. "Hey, doesn't this remind you of our first date?" She wiped her chin and sipped again, repeating the process.

Eric stared at her blankly.

"Our first date!" She repeated, but it was clear he wasn't connecting the dots, "Cause we got milkshakes!"

Eric laughed, "Tami, what you have in your hand is a smoothie. It's a totally different, separate thing from a milkshake."

Tami pursed her lips into a pout, "It's basically the same thing." She said, taking another sip. She kicked off her shoes and shrugged out of her hoodie

Eric chuckled, "Not even close, babe."

They lapsed into silence as she finished her smoothie. When she was done, she put the empty glass on the table, and then scooted closer to Eric on the couch. She ran her hand along his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his polo shirt.

She looked up at him beneath her lashes, "Hi." She said, her voice low.

He moved his hand to cover hers and stilled her movements, and then brought his hand to her head, smoothing his fingers over her hair, "Hi." He smiled.

She leaned over and started planting little kisses on his neck. Her hand lightly caressing his chest through his shirt, then she dipped it lower until she felt his belt buckle. She took her other hand and started to undo it.

"Tami…" His voice was a warning, and he took her hands into his own.

She stopped kissing his neck and pulled back to look at him, "What?"

He shook his head, "Nu-uh. You just had surgery."

"So?" She tried to move her hands under his, and then she dropped her voice down to a whisper, "I want to go down on you."

He should have known about the anesthesia; this was shaping up to be a repeat of the Appendix Incident of 1987. Eric looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and let out a steady breath, "Well, Tami, as much as I would like that—and you know I would _always_ like that—that's just an impossibility right now, and I really meant what I said earlier—you're going to be the death of me."

"An impossibility?" She said, her eyes dropping to his khakis, where evidence of just how possible it actually would be was rapidly making itself known.

Eric nodded his head once, "An impossibility." He confirmed. She was still staring at him, so he felt the need to explain, "I'll give you three reasons why. You just had oral surgery for one! You've got stitches in your mouth for two! And, I think you'll find this to be the most compelling here, you can't… _suck_ on anything for at least a week for three!"

Tami's lids dropped, and her voice followed suit, "Sugar, I think you'll find I can be very _creative_ in that department. In fact, I can just ope—"

"Tami," Eric gritted his teeth, "I beg of you, please stop talking." He knew what she was suggesting, and the idea was damn hot, but if she didn't stop talking soon, he could no longer expect to maintain a clear head about this.

Tami pushed herself away from him and pressed her head into the back of the couch. "Fine." She sighed, "I suppose sex might hurt a bit, too. All the banging around. But…" She waggled her eyebrows, "There are other things we could do."

Eric Taylor had always been a curious man, so when Tami stood up, grabbed his hand, and led him back to their bedroom, he didn't have much choice but to follow her.

She led him to the corner of the room, and sat him down in the chair.

She leaned in to whisper in his ear, "I want to watch you touch yourself." She stepped back, and watched as his gaze darkened.

"Take off your shirt." He said, his voice thick, his command strong. Tami's eyes widened, his shift in tone unexpected but not unwelcome, "You want to tell Dr. Winmore and whoever the hell else what it's like in the bedroom with me, how I call all the plays, how _dominant_ I am… let's go 'head and play it that way, then." He cleared his throat, "Take off your shirt."

Tami felt heat rush through her body, and a bit of it settled on her face, coloring her skin. She reached her hand underneath the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, dropping it on the floor in front of her. She was standing in front of him clad in her jeans and a white lacy push up bra.

"Your turn." She said, looking at her husband.

Eric held up a finger, "It's my turn when I say it's my turn. Bra. Take it off."

She smirked, and reached up behind her, unclasping the bra, she slid it off her arms and dropped it on top of her t-shirt.

"Beautiful," He whispered, staring at her. "Pants and underwear." He said, unable to take his eyes off her breasts.

She unbuttoned her jeans, and slid them off with her underwear, kicking them off to the side. She was very aware of how _naked_ she was as her husband's gaze raked over her, approvingly. Tami glanced down at his khakis, and was pleased to see he was straining against them. She loved that just seeing her naked like this could still turn him on after two decades of marriage.

"You're so beautiful Tami." He drawled, his eyes searching her body, "Get on the bed."

She turned, and walked to the bed. She heard rustling behind her, and when she situated herself on the bed and turned around, she saw a shirtless Eric Taylor working on the fly of his pants. Finally, when he'd shed all of his clothes, he turned to look at her.

"Play with yourself." He directed, and she wasted no time, her fingers finding their way to her core in no time.

She watched as he did the same, turned on by her self-stimulation. Tami's eyes were closed when Eric walked over to the side of the bed. She felt his palm on her breast and her eyes flew open. A second later, his mouth was on her other breast as he teased and sucked her nipples.

"Other men can look at these all day long, can stare longingly at your cleavage as much as they want. Can't blame them, really…" his words were muffled, as he spoke around her breast, "But who do these belong to, Tami?" He asked, pinching her nipple roughly.

She cried out, and her fingers worked faster.

"Whose are they?" He asked again, his voice rough.

"Yours." She said, "They're yours, Eric."

"Good." He said, and then he placed gentle kisses down her abdomen until he reached the juncture of her thighs. He spread her legs, and then settled his head in between her legs, his mouth on her.

She cried out at the sensation, and reached down to bury her hands in his hair, holding him to her. It didn't take long for her to reach the edge, and she went over with his name on her lips, her fingers clutching his hair.

When she was done, he stood next to the bed, and she took him in her hand, watching as his eyes closed and he moaned and murmured her name. When they were finished, he crawled into bed with her, and placed gentle kisses on her breasts.

She ran her fingers lightly through his hair, "So possessive." She said, her voice teasing.

"You like it." He chuckled.

"Mmhmm." She nodded, "I sure do, sugar." She sighed contentedly, " _That_ was fun. And now," She yawned, "It's time for a vicodin and a nap."

Eric kissed the side of her breast, smiled, and rolled off the bed, making his way out of the room.

He heard a low whistle as he passed the doorframe, "Nice ass!" Tami said from behind him. He chuckled, shook his head, and kept walking.

He returned with a glass of water, and a white pill.

Tami took the pill from him, popped it in her mouth, and took a swig of water. She set the glass on the nightstand, "Thanks, babe." She slid under the covers, and smiled at him.

Eric smoothed his hand over her hair, and then leaned down and kissed the top of her head, "Sleep well." He smiled against her hair.

She would, of course, sleep well. She always did sleep especially well after he made her come with his mouth. She closed her eyes, feeling the vicodin take effect, "Mmm, honey… You _do_ take really good care of me." Her voice was sultry, even as she drifted off to sleep.

Eric put his briefs back on, and watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, listened to the steady sound of her breathing—in that moment, he didn't think he'd ever heard something more comforting. He shook his head, and went back to the living room.

He started up the game tape, and chuckled to himself— _she might really end up being the death of him_ , he thought, _but, damn, what a way to go._


End file.
